


Underneath the Makeup

by Dark_Knight_HQ



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexual Harleen Quinzel, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, Friendship, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug, Multi, Past Abuse, Psychological, Slow Burn, bruce wayne is straight af though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Knight_HQ/pseuds/Dark_Knight_HQ
Summary: Harley viewed it as a holiday, he was more inclined to see it as rehabilitation. Sometimes unusual circumstances require unusual responses.
Relationships: Harleen Quinzel & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 41
Kudos: 103





	1. Poison Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this ages ago (three years) and abandoned it, but now I've decided to completely re-do it, so hopefully it's a lot better now - that's the plan, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started this ages ago (three years) and abandoned it, but now I've decided to completely re-do it, so hopefully it's a lot better now - that's the plan, at least.

“I want to come.”

“No.”

“Look at this as a chance for me to learn!”

“No.”

“It’ll make me a better crimefighter.”

“No.”

“ _Please.”_

Bruce stopped putting his suit on for a moment and raised an eyebrow at Tim. “Contrary to what Alfred tells you, manners won’t get you _everywhere_ in life.”

“Nonsense, Master Wayne,” Alfred rebuffed, scowling up at the squealing bats over their heads. “A man can come from nothing and still make himself into something, as long as he is _polite_.” He huffed at the deadpan look Bruce gave him.

Tim nodded eagerly. “See? Come on, it’s only Poison Ivy.”

“No, it’s not.” Bruce turned to face his son, trying to express the seriousness of the situation. “We’re looking for Harley and the Joker, Tim – you know how dangerous they are.”

The teenager’s face drained of any of his previous excitement. “Bruce, I’ve been Robin for two years. If I can’t track the Joker with you, can I at least visit Ivy?” He touched the older man’s arm gently. “I know you’re scared after what happened, but I can handle this.”

Bruce forced his face to remain impassive at the reminder of Jason. When he saw Alfred looking at him expectantly, he finally conceded with a nod. “Fine, you can come to Arkham.” He paused for a moment, unsure whether to speak more. “I’ll… give the other part a think, okay?”

Tim smiled and nodded, before bouncing off to get changed. Bruce turned to Alfred wearily, who merely smiled nostalgically. “Master Wayne, I really must tell you – you were far worse.”

The drive to the asylum was quiet; Tim seemed to be deep in thought, and Bruce had never been one to break any silences between the two of them. However, a few minutes before they arrived, Tim decided to speak. “So Dick came back last night.”

This was obviously not news to Bruce, so he didn’t look at Tim as he continued to drive, staring at the empty road instead. “He’s staying at the manor, Tim – I did notice. What about it?”

“How are things between you two?”

Bruce’s jaw clenched slightly, the only sign that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “I don’t know what you mean.” It was a blatant lie, and he made no pretence of hiding it.

Tim snorted disbelievingly. “Okay, Bruce.” He threw him a disapproving look, but thankfully said nothing more on the subject as the asylum came into view.

It was unusually quiet when they arrived at Arkham; unlike most days Bruce visited, the halls were not filled with shouting, threats and laughter from the more disturbed patients. _Most likely planning ways to escape,_ Bruce thought tiredly as they followed a guard to Poison Ivy’s room. Any successful escape, especially from a maximum-security prisoner, always inspired more plots to break out at the next possible opportunity, and today seemed to be no different.

Dr Joan Leland waited for the two of them at the end of the corridor. “Batman, Robin,” she greeted professionally yet warmly. At this point, she was used to silence and blank stares and continued without expecting any kind of response. “She’s inside – we sedated her, but it wore off a few hours ago. She should be up to talking to you. I was wondering if we could speak privately for a moment?” Tim nodded and Bruce simply stared at her, which she took as confirmation to continue. “Charlie, you can leave us.” The guard looked at her in surprise but left without questioning her. Once he had disappeared, Dr Leland turned back to the two superheroes, slightly more nervous than before. “What I’m about to say breaks confidentiality rules.”

While those sorts of things weren’t important to Bruce, he understood that, to a respected and caring psychiatrist like Leland, her patients’ trust was everything. He nodded once, silently impressed by her morals.

She took the nod as confirmation that her words wouldn’t be repeated and continued. “I’m sure both of you know that Harleen and Pamela have been known to… cross the boundaries of friendship?” It was a fair judgement, since no one had a clue if the two were ever in a relationship or simply sleeping together. “Well, before Harleen was arrested, she promised Pamela that she was finished with the Joker and wanted to be her own person. Pamela takes those things to heart, please don’t upset her more than necessary when you question her.”

Bruce nodded again and saw Tim do the same. Harley and Ivy’s relationship had been a strange yet persisting one over the years; despite Harley’s almost guaranteed return to the clown, the two still spent lots of their time living, and causing chaos, together. The thought of the Joker filled Bruce with an anger he hadn’t quite been prepared for and hadn’t felt for a long time. He forced it down as he entered the interrogation room.

Pamela Isley was a beautiful woman; even Bruce, looking past all the times she had attempted to kill him, could appreciate the fact. Even with the deadly glare she gave the two of them, her hair messy and wearing Arkham’s unflattering patient uniform, it was easy to see why so many men fell for her tricks. He kept his face stoic as he and Robin stood in front of the table, her scowl intensifying as she stared up at them. Apparently, today was not going to be a day of trickery and seduction.

“Where are they?” His voice was quiet, but she heard it well enough.

“And why exactly would I tell you that?” She asked mockingly.

“Ivy.” Batman warned her.

“Batman,” she mimicked him, the playfulness underlined with malice.

While normally he wasn’t willing to lie to any of the criminals quite so quickly, an escape by the Joker allowed a different set of rules. “We think Harley is in danger.” He was lying though his teeth and felt the slightest twinge of guilt in his gut as Ivy’s skin paled to a sickly green. She answered immediately, fear for her friend and lover clear in her voice.

“If he’s kicked her out, she either goes to the one of trailers by the theme park or the abandoned apartment block on 76th street. Unless…” Her gaze drifted into space for a moment as she thought, before her eyes snapped back to Batman’s. “Was she Harley or Harleen when she left?”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce asked sharply; beside him, Tim’s eyebrows were rising behind his Robin mask.

“Have you even looked at her file? Dissociative identity disorder – right at the top. I thought everyone knew.” She glanced at him slyly. “Maybe you’re not as good a detective as you’re made out to be.”

Bruce ignored her half-hearted attempts to provoke him. “What difference does the diagnosis mean?” He pushed down the slightest feeling of embarrassment at asking her to explain.

Ivy, on the other hand, barely batted an eyelid at the question. “Harleen is… odd.” Her voice was low and thoughtful when she spoke; it was clear she had been thinking about this before. “She likes to avoid us on the rare times she takes over. She was staying with me once when she switched – let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.” She snapped out of her daze, as if only just aware the two superheroes were listening, and carried on hastily. “Like I said, depending on who’s in control, she could be in a different place.”

“What about the Joker?”

“Oh, I don’t even want to think about where he could be,” Ivy said with an exaggerated sigh. “He could be anywhere in Gotham. After they escape he normally kicks her out for a few days – don’t expect them to be in the same place.”

If Bruce could have rubbed his temples at that moment while remaining stoic, he definitely would have. “And where would _Harleen_ be?”

“Remember that old elementary school Killer Croc destroyed a few years back?” He didn’t respond, but she continued anyway. “Harley was a student there. She still stays there sometimes. Only if she’s really hurt though.” Concern seeped into her voice at the thought, and her eyes became wider when she spoke again. “You won’t find Joker – Harley is your best bet.”

In her desperation to have her friend found safely, her powers of persuasion were weak, especially to Bruce, who it had never worked exceptionally well on to begin with; Tim, who he had almost forgotten was still standing there, was similarly unaffected. However, as the two shared a look, Bruce knew he wasn’t the only one who found the situation odd. Ivy was never this cooperative; the only other time he had been was just before Harley had been found in an alley, covered in blood with some cracked ribs. The thought that history could repeat itself filled Bruce with dread, something he hadn’t been expecting and didn’t even want to try to understand for the time being. He pushed the feeling down and turned to leave, Tim close behind him.

“Batman.” Ivy called, and he turned around to face her once again. “Harley loves the Joker more than anything. But Harleen? She hates the guy – I reckon she’d leave him if she got enough control, probably for _someone else._ ” She looked at him pointedly.

Bruce only stared at her, unwilling to show his confusion, and she groaned quietly. “This is why I hate men,” she grumbled. “If I say anything she’ll kill me, but I _will_ tell you that she’s always paid a little bit too much attention to you on the news.” Though her tone remained annoyed, Bruce could clearly hear the undercurrent of pain in her tone. He swallowed down his sympathy for her, trying hard not to recall the time he felt a very similar way regarding Selina.

_That’s more than I needed to know for a night,_ he thought, his head so preoccupied he barely registered that he had left the room until he was standing outside with Robin. Leland nodded to them both. “I hope you got the information you needed?”

The two superheroes nodded once back and continued down the corridors. The shouting was beginning to start again as more patients realised Batman and Robin were in their midst, and both men remained in silence until they left the asylum and were back in the Batmobile.

“Where are we headed to first?” Tim asked as they set off.

“76th Street is closer, so we’ll look there and then go to the trailer park.” Bruce replied – it was earlier than he would’ve liked for them to be looking for Harley Quinn, but it was a bad idea to leave her alone on the streets of Gotham. Even without the Joker, she was more than slightly dangerous.

“And if she’s not there?”

“Then we go to the school Ivy told us about.” The thought was grim, and Bruce tried to ignore the sinking feeling that Ivy’s cooperation was an omen. “Let Dick know what’s happening, and ask him to look through the city’s security cameras for Harley.” The teenager nodded and pulled out his phone. They sat in silence for a few minutes as the car sped towards the city, before Tim spoke up again.

“Wouldn’t have pegged Harley Quinn to be a secret Batman fan.” He threw out offhandedly, but Bruce didn’t miss the sly glance his son gave him.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Dick.” His voice was flat, and Tim only gave a laugh in return.

They drove almost silently out of the gates of Arkham and towards the lights of the city. Tim seemed happy enough to sit in silence, and Bruce was far too concerned with wondering why exactly he cared what _Harleen Quinzel_ thought of him when he was on the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far!


	2. Rainbow Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to only post one chapter tonight, but I changed my mind. Sue me.

After an hour of looking for Harley Quinn, with darkness well and truly set in, they still hadn’t found the escaped criminal.

“Think Ivy lied to us?” Tim asked as they got back into the Batmobile. The thought had occurred to Bruce too; both 76th Street and the amusement park were far from Arkham – and each other – making it the perfect waste of their time if it had been a ruse.

“No.” He said after a moment of deliberating mentally. “She’s worried about Quinn, I don’t think she’d want us running in circles.”

“True.” Tim agreed, though he looked surprised at the amount of faith Bruce placed on Ivy’s words. “Does that mean we’re going to that old elementary school?”

Just as Bruce was about to reply, a voice rang out from the Batmobile’s speaker. “Batman?” 

“Yes Nightwing?” Bruce replied, pressing a button on the dashboard. A second later, a small screen turned on, showing Dick in full costume.

“I had a look through the cameras, and I think I found something in Robinson Park.” He moved the screen to show a picture on the Batcomputer and both Tim and Bruce squinted to see it. “I can’t really tell who it is, but she’s been there for a while and she looks pretty messed up.”

Bruce nodded. “Even if it’s not her, we should take a look.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the road. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Dick signed off quickly, and Bruce heard Tim sigh in frustration. They drove in silence. It took much less time than it should have – the police department were reluctant to hand out speeding tickets to the Batman – but the awkward atmosphere after Dick’s call made it feel like forever.

One they had finally arrived however, something within Bruce made him pause; it was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, something akin to trepidation. Turning to Tim, he made sure to keep his voice down, his eyes scanning the trees that surrounded them. “Wait here. If anything happens, you drive back and get Nightwing and Batgirl.”

“But I…” Tim trailed off at the look in Bruce’s eyes. Neither man was entirely sure what was at play here, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. “Okay.” He slid into the driver’s seat as Bruce stood from the Batmobile.

He tapped his earpiece. “Nightwing, are you still there?”

“It’s me.” Barbara’s voice rang out instead. “I can see you on the security camera to your left.” Bruce turned his head and looked straight at the badly concealed lens in one of the pine trees above him. “Yep, that’s the one. Follow the trail underneath it and turn left at the rose bush – she’s a little bit further ahead from there.”

“Got it.” Bruce answered shortly. “Keep me updated.” He followed her instructions, leaving Tim to watch the car, and took a moment to check his surroundings as he reached the rosebush. He was fairly confident he was alone, until he saw a bare leg stretched out from behind a tree.

The woman was about fifteen feet in front of him, her body perfectly positioned so anyone looking at the cameras couldn’t identify her. As Bruce looked at her, however, the face of Harley Quinn became visible. He stayed still for a moment, wondering if perhaps she had laid waiting this entire time just to jump out with her mallet. She stayed completely still as he watched her, her skin almost glowing in the dim moonlight.

Once he was fairly certain this wasn’t an elaborate trap of hers, Bruce crept closer to her. The faint movement of her chest rising and falling was the only indication that she wasn’t dead. Looks close to it, Bruce thought darkly as he bent down to have a proper look at her.

Ivy had been right. One arm and a leg lay at an awkward angle and her body was covered in cuts and gashes. Upon closer inspection, her ribs, stomach and thighs were covered in bruises every colour of the rainbow, and he recoiled slightly at the sight of her. Even with her impressive flexibility, he was certain her arm couldn’t naturally bend that way.

Trying not to think of what the Joker used to injure her like this, he picked her up. She weighed surprisingly little for a woman so strong. Fortunately, Harley’s face was in slightly better condition than the rest of her body. Though she had a busted lip and the beginnings of a black eye were beginning to bloom on her pale skin, her facial injuries were confined mostly to small cuts and grazes. She did not stir as he began walking with her in his arms, careful not to further damage her already broken frame. Instead, her eyes remained closed and her breathing shallow, showing no signs of regaining consciousness anytime soon.

Once he arrived at the Batmobile, Bruce saw Tim’s eyes widen as he took in the sight of the super criminal in Batman’s arms. “Is she…?”

“No.” Bruce replied quickly. He placed her on the car’s bonnet and gently pressed on her chest. Once satisfied that both her heart and were in working condition, he ran his fingertips gently across Harley’s blonde hair and down her neck. “No skull or spinal fractures or breaks. Small bump, likely concussed,” he murmured to himself.

“Not the cause of the loss of consciousness though?” Tim looked at him for confirmation. While the fighting skills and detective work had become almost second nature to him after two years, the medical side of the job was making much slower progress, and Bruce often had to remind himself how young Robin was. 

“No, that’s most likely from the pain – she’s not lost enough blood for that to be the cause?” He picked her up again, motioning for Tim to open the door of the back seat for him.

He laid her gently on the back seat, hoping she wouldn’t roll off halfway through the ride. He quickly sat in the driver’s seat, ignoring Tim’s mumblings that he was never allowed to drive. “Batgirl, we have Quinn.” He said, and Barbara’s voice rang through from his earpiece.

“Good.” She paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to ask the question. “Is she going to Arkham or Blackgate this time?”

Instead of answering, Bruce calmly pulled the earpiece out and opened a small compartment that he placed it in. “Is Quinn okay?” Tim leaned around to check on said passenger, his eyebrows almost at his hairline in surprise. 

“Yeah, she seems fine – happier than Barbs is gonna be, at least.” He looked questioningly at Bruce, who glanced at him slightly through the corner of his eyes before staring ahead.

“There’s a lot that Barbara isn’t going to be happy with.” His voice was quiet as they sped through the city, though slower than they would without an injured passenger. 

“I’m not even going to ask.” Tim muttered, staring out of the window. The evening had been a relatively calm one – so far, at least – and he hoped it would remain that way as he looked out at the bright lights that passed them. “Wait, where are we going?” He looked in surprise at Bruce, who didn’t respond. “You just missed the turning for Arkham.”

“I know,” Bruce said evenly, checking the mirror for any other cars. When Tim continued to stare at him in uncomprehending silence, he sighed slightly. “We’re not sending Quinn back to either prison.”

“Well then where the hell are we going to take her?” Tim asked incredulously.

Bruce turned his head towards him slightly, and he was even more surprised to see the ghost of a smile on Batman’s lips. “Wayne Manor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya liked it!


	3. Safe

“You’re all being ridiculous.”

“Barbs come on –“

“Completely stupid –“

“Hey, it wasn’t _my_ idea –“

“Shut up Dick, you’re as bad as Tim in this –“

“Hey, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Be quiet, all of you.” Bruce didn’t look at any of them as he pulled Harley from the car. Alfred waited by a table with first-aid supplies, the lights in the Batcave much brighter than normal. He placed the unconscious woman gently on the bed and watched her head loll to the side. He noticed the bleeding had finally stopped as Alfred pulled off his temporary bandages, but the injuries were looking even worse than they had when Batman and Robin had first found her. Alfred immediately began cleaning her up, and Bruce tried not to think about the look of shock on the older man’s face.

When he finally faced them, Barbara had her arms folded and was glaring at all three of them. “You can’t even be considering this.”

“I am.” Bruce answered shortly, walking straight past her to the Batcomputer and typing Harley’s name into the database. Immediately, three files came up: one for her crimes, one for her diagnostics and behaviour at Arkham, and one simply titled ‘Harleen Quinzel’. He clicked on the second file, vaguely recognising Barbara’s voice behind him as the young woman continued to voice her displeasure. Harley’s face appeared on the screen, and Bruce grimaced slightly as he recognised the photo. The first time Harley had been arrested had been a difficult day for everyone.

“Are you even listening to me?” Barbara moved to stand next to him, and, for a moment, he thought she might unplug the computer.

“No,” he said bluntly. Luckily for him, she left his computer alone and merely pulled off her cowl. She looked even angrier without it on, and Bruce winced internally as he felt the beginning of a migraine form. He continued scrolling through Harley’s file until he found what he was looking for.

“Bruce, this is the worst idea _any of you have ever come up with._ Do you have any idea how dangerous she is?” Barbara didn’t even look at the screen as Bruce scanned the writing. “She’s escaped Arkham four times, not to mention the number of times she’s broken _in_ –“

“Certificate of competency?” Tim interrupted as he read what was on the file. “I didn’t know Harley got one of them.”

Dick nodded. “Three years ago – she was out for a while, but some stuff happened and she got sent back.” He grimaced slightly, and Bruce remembered the ‘kidnapping’ of Veronica Vreeland that had caused the incident. “Pretty sure she hit you with a mannequin arm,” he added.

“It was an interesting day,” Bruce allowed.

“That makes no difference,” Barbara snapped. “A stupid certificate from years ago doesn’t mean she’s cleared to live in your house.”

“Exactly, Barbara. _My_ house.” Bruce finally looked at her, his words only making her angrier.

“What’s she even going to be doing here?” She demanded.

“Going through rehabilitation,” he replied evenly, aware of Dick and Tim’s eyes on him. “Arkham clearly is having no effect on her and the Joker will be there soon. This is her best chance at recovery.”

“Alfred!” Barbara spun to face the butler, who looked up from the unconscious form of Harley Quinn. “You agree that this is insane, don’t you?”

He gave her a long look before replying. “Miss Gordan, this young woman is in no state to stay in a place such as Arkham Asylum – or, heaven forbid it, Belle Reve. It may be insanity, but perhaps in this case it would be the most productive course of action.”

“I can’t believe all of you.” Barbara looked at her watch quickly, before staring at the four men in disgust. “I’m going back on duty, don’t cry to me when she sticks a knife in your leg while you’re playing Happy Families.” She walked off without letting them respond – not that Bruce would have bothered to anyway.

“Hey, wait for me!” Tim called, but Batgirl had already stormed out of sight. Shaking his head, Tim patted Bruce on the back and smiled. “It’ll be okay, she’ll be safe here.” Tim and Dick said their goodnights quickly, before the younger boy followed Barbara out of the Batcave.

Bruce leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, massaging his temples. While he had anticipated Barbara’s resistance to his idea, he wasn’t expecting her to feel quite so strongly about the situation, especially when she wasn’t technically involved – clearly a, very rare, miscalculation. If anything went badly, the blame would fall solely on Bruce Wayne and the Batman. It was an uncomfortable thought.

He looked up to see Dick unzip his suit, revealing his back. To Bruce’s surprise, there were several scars, both old and almost fresh, littering the younger man’s skin. “Where did you get those?”

To his credit, Dick didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Shit happens.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Bruce’s head, but he pushed them again, unwilling to let it go. “Shit like what?”

He still didn’t turn around, but he muscles of Dick’s back were noticeably more tense as he pulled on his shirt. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does,” Bruce replied immediately. “Is there something wrong with your suit? I can ask Lucius to take a look at it – “

“You really don’t get it.” Dick finally turned around to face his former mentor. “The suit is fine, I don’t need your help.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed as he stared down his ward. “If you’re getting unnecessarily injured, maybe you do.”

“Oh for –“ The younger man’s fists clenched. “I’m _twenty-one,_ give it a rest _._ We get hurt, it’s a part of the job. Doesn’t mean I’m bad at it.”

“I didn’t say that you were.” Bruce replied impatiently. “But you’re –“

“Forget it.” Dick cut across him shortly. “I don’t wanna hear about this. I’m going to bed.” He stormed off, leaving Bruce to call after his retreating back.

“If you don’t want to be here, why did you come back?”

Dick froze where he was for a few moments, before turning to face Bruce, an uncharacteristically sarcastic look on his face. “You think I came here for you? I never had a relationship with Jason – Tim’s my brother too.” His eyes lost their anger for a moment, replaced with sadness, before he disappeared from sight.

Bruce let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. In the three years since Dick had left Gotham to become Nightwing, their relationship hadn’t managed to repair itself. Even Jason’s death hadn’t been enough to bring the two together, and Bruce wondered if anything could at this point.

Pushing down the small lump in his throat, Bruce turned back to Harley. Alfred had done an excellent job with her injuries, and several bandages were wrapped around her arms, legs and stomach. She looked like a china doll now – a very damaged one, that was. The older man stood beside her, inspecting his handiwork as Bruce approached. “Master Wayne, would you please carry Dr Quinzel upstairs?” He nodded quickly and picked the woman up, marvelling slightly at how little she weighed. They trailed up the stairs towards the manor quietly, before Bruce finally voiced his thoughts.

“Do you think this will go well?”

“On the contrary, sir, I feel that there is a very good chance of this ending very badly indeed – for all involved.” Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but the elderly butler silenced him with a look. “I don’t mean you’re doing the wrong thing. The manor is far better for her than either of those ghastly places. But I fear this could have any number of disastrous consequences.”

“Trust me, I’ve thought of about fifty thousand.” Bruce murmured, looking down at the young woman in his arms.

“Then you have a mere one hundred thousand more to think of,” Alfred replied drily, looking back to check on Harley. “The medication you’ve given her does not seem to be easing her pain.”

Bruce’s chest clenched as he shifted her slightly, knowing how much pain she must already be in. “I didn’t, she passed out from the pain hours ago.” At Alfred’s look of horror, he quickly backtracked. “She’s immune to poisons and toxins – painkillers don’t work on her.” He tried not to remember the few times he had been in enough pain to lose consciousness, and held her a tiny bit more securely as they climbed up the stairs.

They were silent as they crossed the corridor and Alfred opened the door to a spare bedroom for him. It was large enough not to be claustrophobic and close enough to Bruce’s own room that he would be able to reach her quickly if the situation called for it. “I’ll go over the security for the manor in the morning. I’ve been meaning to upgrade them for a few weeks.”

“I do believe this will be the first time we have increased security in order to keep someone _inside_ ,” Alfred commented. Bruce didn’t reply as he placed her gently on the bed. It quickly dwarfed her tiny frame as he pulled the covers over her. He looked at her as she lay there, and a fleeting feeling of protectiveness welled up in his chest. She looked so small and harmless, so _innocent_ , that he had to remind himself that this was a woman who had committed horrendous crimes, despite appearing, at that moment, that she would never even hurt a fly. Bruce pulled his gaze away and quickly left the room, more than slightly confused by his sudden desire to protect her.

“I’ll deal with Barbara – she’ll come around eventually.” He made sure the door was locked firmly as they closed it behind them. “I’m going to finish patrol. Contact me if anything happens.” He turned to leave, before Alfred’s voice stopped him.

“If I may, Master Wayne, today has been a taxing one for us all. Perhaps you have earned a rest for the rest of the night?”

“Crime doesn’t stop when one deserves a break, Alfred.” The butler nodded sadly, watching the younger man’s back retreat as he returned to the Batcave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review and let me know what you think! Until next time!


	4. Harlequins and Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! Hope you guys like it!

Harley registered the pain before she even fully woke up, a dull thud that was quickly worsening with every heartbeat. She swore quietly as she opened her eyes. A harsh glare met her gaze and she clenched them shut again, her head thumping even worse than before. Taking a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes again, much slower this time, and was careful to look at the white pillow next to her. It was nice, much softer – and cleaner – than anything she’d slept on in a long time. If her mind hadn’t been so foggy, she would have registered that these bed clothes had clearly cost more than anything she used, either.

“Puddin’?” She called out weakly, her limbs feeling like lead weights as she tried to move. “Mistah J, you there?” When she received no reply, she braced herself for a moment, before pulling herself up into a sitting position. The pain was almost unbearable, even for her, but she gritted her teeth until it had subsided enough for her to figure out where she was.

It didn’t take long for her to work out the Joker wasn’t there. This was, without a doubt, the nicest room she’d ever been in. It was large and spacey, with simple wallpaper and décor. It was dark, the heavy curtains letting very little light in, but from what she could see, everything around her was more expensive than anything she was used to.

She reached up to touch her face and was relieved to find that her white makeup had remained on, though no doubt smeared beyond belief. To her shock, however, a large bandage was wrapped around her forehead. _At least that explains the headache,_ she thought ruefully. She tried to swing her legs down from the bed, frowning in confusion when they didn’t move.

When she pulled the sheets off of her, she gaped at her arms and legs in surprise. They were covered almost completely in bandages – which, for some reason, were pink – hiding injuries she wasn’t sure she even wanted to see. While a small part of her mind appreciated the colour choice, the rest of her was beginning to panic. Even for her, being incapacitated in an unknown location was not ideal circumstances. Before she could dwell on her whereabouts, she noticed what she was wearing.

Instead of her costume, she was dressed in a simple white shirt – it was clean and very, very large, reaching to the middle of her thighs and engulfing her torso and arms. The Joker wasn't tall or broad enough to wear a shirt this size, and she was almost scared to wonder whose clothes she was wearing.

Just then, the door of the bathroom opened, and a man Harley didn’t recognise came in. He was quite old, with white hair and a small smile. “Good morning, Ma’am. How are you feeling?” He was British, to her surprise.

“I, uh, I’m good, I guess.” She looked at his fancy suit. “Is this your house, Mistah…?”

“Alfred, Ma’am.” He supplied helpfully. “And no, I don’t live here. I work here as the butler.”

“Oh.” She looked down in embarrassment. He walked across the room and pulled the curtains open. Light streamed into the room and Harley blinked rapidly, her headache even worse.

“May I take a look at your legs?” He asked politely, and she noticed a first aid kit in his hands.

“Go for it.” She thought of offering to do it herself, before realising he probably knew better than to allow it. Instead, she watched as Alfred peeled off the bandages on her leg. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “What happened ta me?” She asked, staring at the bruises and gashes all over her legs.

“I’m afraid I have to leave the explanations to Master Bruce, he will be up shortly to speak with you.” He looked up from cleaning her injuries and shot her a small smile. It did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves.

“I got no clue who that is.” Harley’s mind began to drift as she wondered where she was. The last thing she remembered was planning something in the park with Mr. J, although she couldn’t recall what the plan had been. How she had woken up in a fancy place with a butler was anyone’s guess, but there was only one Bruce – that she knew of – who would have a butler. “Ya don’t mean Bruce _Wayne_ , right?”

As if her words as summoned him, the door opened once more. He was even taller than she remembered, maybe because she was sitting on her bed, and his smile was warm. "Ah, Harleen, I see you're awake. Good, I was hoping to speak with you for a while." His voice was much deeper than she had expected, almost as deep as Batman's, if that were even possible. He nodded to Alfred, who had just finished re-applying her bandages, and the elderly butler gave Harley one last smile before nodding to Wayne and slipping from the room.

He stepped further into the room, the smile not leaving his face as he looked over her. With a start, she realised he had spoken and likely expected some kind of response. “Uh, sure?” Her discomfort increased as his smile grew. Memories of their last encounter came flooding back, and her face flushed in embarrassment.

“Is the room to your liking?” He asked politely, looking around. She just nodded and stared at the section of wall just above his ear.

“Listen,” she began awkwardly. “I don’t mean to be rude or nothin’, but why the fuck am I here?” She cringed at how rude she did, in fact, sound, but, luckily, Wayne didn’t seem to agree.

He came closer to the bed and sat on the chair next to her. His eyes were more intense when he next spoke, making her already high stress levels increase further. “What do you remember about last night Harleen?”

“Nothin’.” _That I’d tell ya,_ she finished mentally. She had an uncomfortable idea what all this could be about, and she was in no mood to give him any more ammo.

“Well,” Wayne began, shifting slightly in his chair, “Batman and Robin found you last night. As you can see –“ he gestured to her legs “ – you were injured very badly.”

“Can ya skip to the point, Brucie?” She asked with a sickly sweet smile. His smile became visibly forced.

“Of course.” He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to use. “It’s become clear that Arkham is not helping your recovery in the way that it should, so Batman has brought you here for your rehabilitation instead.” She was silent for a long time, and his face grew more concerned. “Are you alright?”

“This is bullshit.” She sighed in frustration. “When I’m outta this cast I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt that you’ll try.” She snorted and he raised an eyebrow. “While you’re staying here, Batman will be visiting you occasionally, and he has secured the house –“ Harley stopped paying attention as his words dragged on and looked at him for closely. He was a huge guy up close, as big as the meatheads Joker employed. Definitely big enough to own what she was currently wearing.

“Is this ya fuckin’ shirt?” She asked in shock, barely registering that she’s spoken over him.

Wayne scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yes. I’m sorry,” he apologised quickly, “I’ve asked Alfred to order you some clothes, but we didn’t have any to hand.”

“S’fine,” Harley murmured. “That why you keep calling me ‘Harleen’?”

“Yes.”

“Stop it.”

“I understand that it’s an adjustment for you.” He said sympathetically. His only reply was a glare. “But you’ll get used to this. Is there anything I can get you to eat or drink?”

“Just toast and coffee. I ain’t that hungry.” She didn’t thank him when he nodded and left the room with one last smile. Once he was gone, her eyes filled with tears and she leant back down against the pillow. “I’ll get outta here Puddin’,” she mumbled.

From outside the room, Bruce sighed as he heard her promise. He walked back down the corridors and staircases until he reached the dining room. Dick, Tim and Alfred were all there, staring up at Bruce as he walked in. “She’d like toast and a coffee, Alfred.” He sat down in the closest chair, rubbing his temples as the butler nodded and left for the kitchen. Quinn’s voice was almost enough to bring on a headache on its own.

“How is she?” Dick’s voice wasn’t particularly warm – unsurprising after their row last night – but Bruce didn’t comment on it.

“Not exactly pleased, but she hasn’t tried to escape yet.” He tried to keep his voice optimistic, but it had never been one of his strengths.

“I give it twenty-five minutes.” Tim’s voice chimed in from across the table as he leaned over to grab the coffee pot.

“Nope, that’s your fourth cup.” Dick snatched it away before his brother could reach it. “And give her some credit – it won’t take that long.”

“Ha ha,” Bruce deadpanned, reaching for the coffee that Dick had set down. “This is just a trial – if I think that things are too risky, I’ll send her back to Arkham.”

“You won’t know if she gets out of hand when you’re at work,” Tim pointed out.

“Alfred will be here, and I’ll only be gone a few hours each day.” He’d planned far enough ahead that most work could be done at the manor. “We have to show at least a small amount of trust in her.”

“You’ve got a camera in her room, haven’t you?” Dick guessed with a raised eyebrow.

“Not quite.” Even he wasn’t about to violate her privacy like that. “Her windows and door are locked – there’s a camera outside her door.” He took a drink of the hot liquid, thankful no one had slipped sugar into it again.

“What happens if she does escape?” Tim asked curiously, and Bruce wondered if Barbara had prompted him to ask that.

“I get sent an alert if I’m at the office. Either way we go after her and she goes to Arkham.” Both boys nodded without smiling.

“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” Dick murmured, scowling at Tim as he lurched for the coffee pot Bruce had abandoned. “You could always sleep.”

Tim held the pot up and tapped the glass. “This way I get stuff done.” Both men shook their heads at him as Alfred came back into the room with a tray of food for Harley.

Bruce smiled at the butler as he finished his coffee. “Thank you, Alfred.” He wanted to say he was sure Quinn would appreciate it, but he couldn’t with full honesty.

“Of course sir, I’ll take it up to her now.”

“Actually,” Dick jumped in, sharing a look with Tim, “would you mind if we take it?”

Alfred looked to Bruce for confirmation. Although he was able to reach them quickly if anything went wrong, that would reveal his identity to the Joker’s girlfriend – who also happened to be a formidable woman in her own right. Uninjured, Dick and Tim together might not be able to contain her. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case today. “That’s fine, but please don’t provoke her.”

“Come on Tim.” Dick stood quickly and took the plate from Alfred with a grin. Tim followed, more calm than his brother

“Am I to assume you will be working in the Batcave for today, sir?” Alfred asked once the boys had left.

Bruce nodded. “I’m going down once they’re back.”

Alfred said nothing for a moment and Bruce had the distinct feeling the next conversation would not be enjoyable. “Do you know how long Master Richard will be staying for?”

_Of course._ Bruce sighed. “I’m not sure, I think he wants some time with Tim and to be away from the Titans.”

“Are you aware that he and Miss Koriand'r are no longer involved?”

“No.” Bruce felt his chest constrict slightly as Alfred’s words sunk in. “No, he didn’t tell me that.” He wasn’t entirely sure why that fact hurt, or even if it should, but it was undeniable and incredibly unpleasant.

Alfred smiled sadly and patted Bruce’s shoulder. “Perhaps it would be wise to use the time you have with him, sir. Tomorrow is never guaranteed.”

“Right as always, Alfred.” He smiled back at the older man, wondering how on earth he was ever expected to make amends with his son.

The man in question, meanwhile, had a very different topic on his mind. “Imagine if she’s not in there.”

“That’s really encouraging.” Tim rolled his eyes before punching in the password for the lock on the door. He looked back when he felt Dick stare. “It’s the same as the code for his whiskey cabinet.”

“I never figured it out,” Dick mumbled. Tim only snorted as he knocked lightly on the door.

"Come on in."

It took a moment for either of them to say anything. Harley looked a mess. Her makeup was smudged, her hair in matted knots, and she was wearing a large, white shirt of Bruce's. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her head, arms and legs bandaged, grinning up at them like a demented child.

"Well, I expected a butler from what Brucie said, not two kids." Harley said, her voice loud and shrill.

"Erm, yeah I'm Richard, but you can call me Dick. Everybody does. This is Tim." The older boy walked to the bed and placed Harley's tray of food on it. "Anything else you need?" He was careful not to get too close, more than aware that – even injured – she was incredibly dangerous.

"Nah, I'm good thanks, sugar! Oh, but tell Brucie that I don't need no one to chat to, so he can send me back off to ma Puddin'."

"He's there to help you, you know, not to stress you out. Same with us." Tim finally spoke from the doorway. He smiled awkwardly back as she bared her teeth in a grin at him.

"Ooh, I like this one. Not many little boys can talk to the scary Harlequin!" She laughed, and the sound sent shivers down the spines of both boys.

"Well, I'll tell Bruce what you said, and I hope you enjoy your breakfast. We'll see you later, Harleen." Dick walked quickly to the door and shut it behind him and Tim, hearing Harley continuing to laugh through the door.

Neither of them spoke until they got to the other side of the corridor, when Tim finally broke the silence. "Why are her bandages pink?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think and drop me a review!


	5. Brothers

_What are you doing Harley?_ The natural voice of Harleen Quinzel echoed in Harley's mind as the young woman lay on her bed.

"Whaddya want now, ya bitch?! I ain’t doing nothing wrong – so you can fuck off!" Harley snapped at her better half.

_No need for that kind of language, it's rude to swear._

"Not if I'm swearing ta mahself it ain’t!" Harley growled out loud.

_Yes, Harley, it's still rude. But I don't mean right this second; you gave up everything! Your brains, your career, your friends, all for that clown - and where has that landed you? At Arkham Asylum, as a patient!_

"Puddin' is the best thing tha’ eva happened ta me! You just don't understand him the way I do! He loves me, like I love him." The jester's voice was dreamy, and Harleen snorted.

_The bruises all over us don’t seem to agree._

“That wasn’t his fault! I pissed me off – or was it you?” Harley thought for a moment, her head cocked to the side and an exaggerated pout on her lips. “It _was_ you, ya dumb broad!”

_Like you weren’t going to do it eventually anyway,_ Harleen’s voice snapped back. _And I’m not sure who you’re calling dumb, which one of us got a PhD?_

“Shut ya damn mouth.” Harley scowled and rubbed her temples. “Y’know, whenever you come along I get a headache.”

_You think I don’t?_ Harleen asked sarcastically. _Nothin’ worse than hearing your voice when I’m trying to figure out how to deal with your messes._

“Hey, I don’t get in that many messes!” Harley shouted indignantly. Harleen only snorted incredulously.

_Our life is a mess, Harley._

“Rude.”

_I said ‘our’, not ‘your.’ I take some responsibility in this._ She was silent for a moment, and much sadder when she spoke again. _I’m sorry I’ve never been able to stop him from hurting you. I tried._

“Aww shucks.” Harley giggled and blushed at the sentiments. “Ya real cute, but ya ain’t gotta worry. It won’t happen again.”

" _What_ won't happen again?"

The woman screamed loudly and whirled on the bed to face the door. She scowled when she saw a familiar man in a mask. "Whatcha talkin' about Batsy? I didn't say nothing." Harley snapped, embarrassed at him hearing what she had said.

Batman simply stared at her, and eventually the silence became too much for her. "Just a nightmare," she muttered, scowling at the Dark Knight. "And anyway, why are you here? Don't tell me I gotta deal with you and Brucie!"

"You won’t see me often." The vigilante's deep voice was patient as he spoke to the woman in front of him. “Mr Wayne has asked me to make sure his house is secure enough for you to stay here.”

Harley groaned. "Great. So I'm living with some playboy who's tryna be nice to me and giving me some bullshit line that he wants to help me, and now I got ya basically accusing me of runnin' away! Don't I get a choice in this?!"

"No."

"Of course not. At least there's two boys here. Bruce's sons, y’know?” Harley found herself smiling as she thought about the boys she had met the day before. She laughed loudly at Batman’s eyes narrowed slightly, a shrill noise that sent Harleen wincing to the back corners of their mind. “Don’t get the wrong idea there – I didn’t mean it in a creepy way or nuttin’!” She pouted for a minute, and her voice was exaggeratedly sad when she spoke again. “I had three brothers, can’t blame a gal for liking the company.”

Of all the things about his sons she could have said, he was not expecting that. Truth be told, no one at Arkham had really gone through the files on Harley's family other than her main psychiatrist Joan Leland; and, while the jester was very open about her obsession with the Joker, she had refused to speak about her past life with anyone. Bruce hadn't even known she had one brother, let alone three. He also made a note of her past tense when referring to her siblings, and stored the information away for later examination. Before he could ask any questions about her family, however, Harley had begun to speak again.

"Can I ask you a question now?"

"No." Batman's voice held no hesitation, and Harley glared at him.

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask! It wasn't nothin' personal!"

The Dark Knight sighed. "Harleen, I'm not answering your questions. Ask someone else - isn't Mr. Wayne's job in this situation to talk to you?" A second later, he realised he'd set himself up for the next time he spoke to her as Bruce Wayne, but he couldn't find a way to retract his statement.

"Maybe, yeah, but his life is all over the papers. Not the same thing, really." Harley spoke softly, then turned away from Batman, ending the conversation abruptly.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to take her in. Surely she knew he couldn’t tell her anything about his life, and she’d never wanted to ask him a serious question before. He was was hardly the only one who was hiding things either – Harley was known to clam up, or become violent, if someone brought up her life before the Joker, as Harleen Quinzel. The vigilante shook his head and walked to the door, when Harley called out to him.

"Bats? I need some face paint. I don't have any, and this one's two days old - I forgot to take it off." Her voice was distant and very unlike the enthusiastic screeching he was used to hearing from her.

"If you ask Mr Wayne he’ll get you the paint, but only for a while. Then you can't use it." Batman said, still thinking about what she had said. “Are you still in contact with your brothers?" He hadn't even meant to ask the question; it had just been on his mind.

Harley sounded very angry when she spoke, even though he could no longer see her face, and her messy pigtails bounced angrilymessy pigtails bounced angrily. "Ya won't answer a question you ain’t even heard, but ya want me to answer that? I ain't telling you jack shit."

"Alright then." And the door closed, leaving Harley Quinn alone with the memories she wished she could forget.

**OoOoO**

Bruce knew he should have left the matter the moment she made it clear that she didn’t want to be open with him yet. It wasn’t a surprise, not when he considered how long Batman and Harley Quinn had been enemies for. Perhaps as Bruce Wayne he would have more luck in gaining her trust, but it was beginning to become clear that she didn’t intend for it to be a one-way situation. It was definitely better to let her open up in her own time, without any pressure or interference from anyone.

None of these decisions were enough to stop him researching her family anyway.

“Master Wayne, I assume everything is alright with Dr Quinzel for now?” Alfred asked as he entered the Batcave. He looked at the screen as Bruce typed in her name and raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything that I should know?”

“She needs some more face paint,” Bruce answered distractedly as he selected one of Harley’s files. In truth, he had never read up on anything about her family or her past, beyond a few key details that could be used to find her after an escape from Arkham. It seemed as though he would need to know more now, since the purpose had shifted to her rehabilitation. He scrolled down, barely reading the pages on her early childhood and academic abilities – which, even to him, were impressive – and stopped at the page he was most interested in.

_ Family: _

_Father: Nick Quinzel – serving in Blackgate Penitentiary for three more years_

_Mother: Sharon Quinzel – deceased_

_Paternal Uncle: Louie Quinzel – living in Metropolis_

_Paternal Aunt: Alice Quinzel – living in Metropolis_

_Brother: Barry Quinzel – whereabouts unknown_

_Brother: Frankie Quinzel – whereabouts unknown_

_Brother: Ezzie_ _Quinzel – whereabouts unknown_

_Nephew (by Barry Quinzel): Nicky Quinzel – living in Gotham City_

_Niece (by Barry Quinzel): Jenny Quinzel – living in Gotham City_

It wasn’t a large family, but the unidentified locations of her brothers concerned him. He made a note to question Commissioner Gordon on the available information.

“Her father is in prison too?” Alfred asked, looking at the file from behind Bruce. Neither of them were surprised; it was unfortunate, but crime often ran in the family, especially in a city like Gotham.

“Yes, he went back in six months ago or so. Identity theft and fraud.” It was the ninth time that Harley’d father had been to jail, and even Bruce felt sympathy for her as he considered growing up in a household like that.

Apparently, Alfred felt the same. “Poor girl.”

“She’s still a criminal Alfred,” he reminded the elder man. “We can’t forget that.”

“Indeed, we must remember that she is dangerous to all of us,” Alfred agreed. “But I must admit, I wonder how she would have turned out, had her family been… more conventional, and she not come into contact with the Joker.”

“I’m not sure,” Bruce murmured, closing the file. “A very different woman, that’s for sure.”

“Then I only hope we can help her to become that woman, or at least one with more to live for than Harley Quinn does.” He hesitated for a moment, and Bruce looked over at him expectantly. “I cannot help but wonder, sir, if searching through her files fpr the information you want is truly the way to gain her trust.”

“That wasn’t my plan for everything.” The response was immediate and somewhat childish, especially to Bruce’s ears. “I want her to open up to Bruce Wayne, but there’s no point in even attempting to make it happen as Batman.”

“I must agree with you there, sir, it will take nothing short of a miracle for her to attempt to ‘bond’ with the Batman.” Alfred allowed. “But I understand that the young lady specifically does not like talking about her family or life before crime?” At Bruce’s nod, he continued. “It seems rather counterproductive for you to search up the information when you want her to feel able to talk about it on her own terms. The goal is for Dr Harleen Quinzel to recover, is it not?”

Chastised. Bruce nodded again. “I’ll make sure I remember that in the future.”

“Very good, Master Wayne.” Alfred smiled, before glancing at the clock. “Good Lord, it’s far too late for such an old man to still be awake. I think I will retire for the night, sir.”

“Of course, I won’t be up for too much longer.”

“This is a good thing that you’re doing, sir, you should be very proud of yourself.” He didn’t give the younger man a chance to respond and patted his shoulder in a fatherly manner. “Good night. Do not stay up for the entire night.” He warned half-heartedly, though they both knew that Bruce would if he had the slightest inclination to.

Bruce didn’t point this out, however, and merely smiled. “Good night Alfred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a review, you know I love ‘em!


	6. I Don't Need Your Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should really start updating more. I just got a message on FanFiction.Net double checking I hadn't died from coronavirus.

Bruce was so engrossed in the newspaper that he barely noticed Tim until he spoke. “Is Harley not joining us?” He didn’t look up.

“No.”

Tim sighed in what sounded like annoyance, but the older man brushed it off without much thought. Tim might be unusual in many ways for someone his age, but all teenage boys got moody every now and then – even superhero ones.

“So you’re hiding her away.”

Forcing himself not to raise an eyebrow, Bruce slowly folded the paper and placed it next to him. Tim had taken a place at the table and was staring at him intently. “No, Alfred is bringing her some food up later. She wasn’t hungry.” He watched Tim pour himself a coffee and drink the hot liquid in one gulp. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“Would you let her eat with us if she was hungry?” His adopted son asked, avoiding the question.

“No.”

That clearly wasn’t the right answer. Tim’s scowl darkened considerably. “So you _are_ hiding her.” Bruce wasn’t sure why this mattered to him so much. Tim had never particularly cared about the care given to Arkham inmates, and he idly wondered how much of an effect Dick was having on his younger brother.

“Tim, you saw how she was the other day,” Bruce replied patiently, trying another tactic. “She’s not going to get better for a long time, I don’t want you in the middle –“

“Bullshit.” Tim glared at him. “You just don’t want to be near her.”

“That’s not true.” The muscle in his jaw clenched involuntarily. “I brought her here to rehabilitate her.”

“Then why aren’t you doing that?” Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but the teenager continued without letting him interrupt. “Bruce, she’s been here for four days and you’ve visited her once. She won’t even hurt us. She’s messed up, yeah, but she doesn’t hurt innocent people on the streets. If you keep her here and don’t talk to her, it’s not rehabilitation – it’s prison.”

“I am talking –“

“The only person you’re kidding here is yourself.” It was rare to see Tim quite so impassioned – normally he lurked on the fringes while Dick and Bruce argued over the best cause of action. “I’m going to school, maybe try and actually help her while I’m gone.” He grabbed his bag and another flask of coffee and walked out without looking back. A few seconds later, the front door opened and slammed shut again.

Once he had left, Bruce picked up the newspaper again with a frustrated sigh, hoping for some peace this time. Alfred, however, had other ideas. “Master Wayne,” he began, almost as soon as entering the room, “is it possible that Master Timothy may have made a valid point?”

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again after a moment to consider. It was true that he had spent less time than he could have with Harley after he had visited her as Batman, but that wasn’t because he had been worried about seeing her again – was it? The sudden doubt confused him, and he looked up into Alfred’s knowing eyes. “Maybe he’s right.”

Alfred nodded, no doubt pleased at the lack of resistance Bruce had put up. “I gave her the clothing we ordered for her earlier, perhaps she might appreciate you checking that everything is to her liking?” When Bruce nodded and stood, he quickly continued. “If you wait a few moments, sir, I can accompany you with her breakfast.”

“I can take it up with me.” At the butler’s widening eyes, he tried to backtrack on any offence he had caused. “You and Tim are right, I might as well talk to her for a while before I head into the office. It would make more sense for me to take up her breakfast.” Alfred nodded hesitantly, still evidently displeased with the idea of entrusting breakfast to someone else, but he let Bruce remain in the kitchen while he made Harley’s food.

As he left the kitchen, Bruce wasn’t sure what to say or do, and several times he almost turned around and walked back to his newspaper. His legs had other ideas, however, and continued to carry him along the corridors until he reached Harley’s room. It was a simple guest one, and – with the glaring exception of the coded lock on the door – looked exactly the same as any other room around the manor. He knocked and waited until he heard Harley call for him to come in. Once she did, he typed in the code and opened the door.

She was cross legged in the middle of the floor staring at a large box in front of her. Bruce couldn't help but smile slightly at the look of pure, childish joy on the young woman's face. Alfred must have given her the makeup she had asked for, as well as the clothes Bruce himself had requested for her - after all, she couldn't just wear his shirts for her entire stay. Harley looked up as she heard him walk in, and she grinned at the man in front of her.

"Hey, Brucie! Thanks for the stuff ya got hold of for me." She eyed the plate that he held and her smile grew even more. “Whatcha got there?” He reached down to hand her the tray, and she licked her lips before quickly digging into her scrambled eggs on toast.

"I’m glad you like your things, are they suitable?" It should have been; the makeup was just as garish as what she used on her heists, and she clothes were mostly casual shirts and jeans, with a few dresses. They had ensured that the none of the clothes were black, red, purple or green. The underwear had been a little bit more difficult – Bruce was slightly embarrassed to admit they had used a body scanner to ensure they knew her measurements for all clothing, and, after much persuasion, Barbara had jabbed her finger at some items from a women’s catalogue. Apparently, her dislike of Harley Quinn only extended so far.

"Yup, it's all great. I like blue a lot, so that's good!" She laughed, but it sounded forced, not at all like her usual carefree giggles. He decided not to press the matter, not wanting to overstep any unknown boundaries. She continued to eat without speaking, leaving him to stand awkwardly as Tim’s words echoed around his head. The silence, for him, was an uncomfortable and tense one, and he wondered if she felt the same before deciding to speak again. She set down her knife and fork and stared straight at him.

“Do ya think I’m stupid, Bruce?” Harley asked sadly, pouting up at him. It was an unusual facial expression for a grown woman, and he wasn’t entirely sure what the right answer was. The truth, in his mind at least, was that she was very ill, and her years of the Joker had taught her to act the part of the idiotic sidekick, but she was also incredibly intelligent – dangerously so, if she chose to use it in the right way. But Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist, wasn’t supposed to know that, so he settled for telling her the only thing he could:

“You have a medical degree, Harleen.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” She perked up a little at that and her pout was replaced by a small but toothy grin. Her mood swings were becoming difficult to keep up with. “Youngest eva MD/PhD to come outta Gotham University.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t news to him – though it should have been with the way she acted sometimes – but he pretended for both their sakes. “That’s incredible. You should be proud.”

She froze for a second, and he could have kicked himself when he realised why she suddenly looked so shocked. After years with the Joker and a childhood that he deduced had not been a happy one, it must have been strange for someone she barely knew to compliment her, Nevertheless, she didn’t retreat into herself like he feared. “Meh, ain’t got none a that now. Wish I did sometimes,” she said thoughtfully, her brows sloping theatrically. “Would be nice to wipe the smiles off them assholes’s faces.”

“Like who?” Bruce asked quickly. He hadn’t been expecting her to open up this fast.

“Goons, the Arkham lot, Batsy –“

“Batman?” He repeated in surprise.

“Yep.” Harley nodded vigorously, her eyes wild and childlike. “It’s always ‘Quinn, Quinn, Quinn’ with him.” She deepened her voice as she began to mimic Bruce’s infamous Batman voice. “’Quinn, don’t touch that’, ‘Quinn come here’, ‘Quinn stop being stupid’ – blah, blah, blah.” Bruce wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended by her terrible impression of him.

“I’m sure he just wants what’s best for you,” he offered, hoping she would agree with him.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side. “Batsy doesn’t give two shits about me.” Harley’s voice was blunt as she disagreed. “He jus’ wants me outta his hair.”

“What makes you think that?” Bruce asked, his voice a careful blend of curiosity and sympathy.

“Jus’ the way he is. Gets butthurt over everything.” He fought to keep his face straight at her words, silently hoping she never said anything like that to either Dick or Tim. “Tried to ask the guy his favourite colour the other day – thought he was gonna shove a Batarang down my throat.”

_Oh._ The thought that her question from two nights ago would be something so mundane had never crossed his mind, and he almost flinched from the sharp pang of regret in his chest. He thought wildly for any way of making it up to her. “I know it won’t be the same – I’m definitely not as interesting as the Batman, I’m afraid,” he began, “but you’re welcome to ask me any questions you have.”

She grinned up at him and nodded enthusiastically, thoughts of Batman disappearing for the time being. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “I’d probably say black.” He laughed as she pulled a face. “Boring, I know?”

She nodded in agreement, before asking another question. “Favourite superhero?”

He thought for a minute, knowing it could have consequences. “Wonder Woman,” he blurted.

“Huh.” Harley looked at him interestedly for a few moments. “Wouldn’ta pegged ya for a feminist.”

Bruce tried not to be offended by her surprise. “What about yours?”

“Not sure really.” She cocked her head to the side in concentration, and Bruce couldn’t decide if it was immature or endearing. “Batsy’s always been nice ta me – not like Superman when he came ta Gotham that time.” She pouted angrily, and Bruce bit back a smile as the memory. Clark hadn’t been entirely sure what to do with the jester, and their interactions, though limited, had been interesting. “I slept with Green Arrow’s girl once, the Flash is weird, Wonder Woman’s hot but straight – I’m going with Aquaman.” He didn’t even try to make any sense of her logic.

They carried on asking increasingly ridiculous questions for the next two hours, and it was with some surprise that Bruce realised he would rather skip a trip to the office than leave. Harley took his departure well, though he knew she was disappointed. “Promise you’ll come talk soon?” She begged, her eyes impossibly large as she stared unblinkingly at him.

“I promise.” She grinned up at him and he smiled back, far less forced than the ones he had given her earlier in the day.

Time at Wayne Enterprises seemed to slow dramatically, and Bruce convinced himself the only reason he wanted to get back was to ensure nothing went wrong. It wasn’t necessary that he be there, but it did help, and Alfred had begun insisting that he leave the house as Bruce Wayne and not simply as Batman. So he endured the absurdly slow ticking of the clock and his board members – ninety percent of whom were beyond aggravating – and left as early as he possibly good, arriving barely later than Tim did.

Tim, after discovering Bruce had indeed made an effort with Harley while he was at school, was much more pleasant company that evening. He was certainly more lively than Dick, who had fallen asleep at the table five minutes ago and had yet to wake up. Bruce hadn't wanted to disturb him, considering how much stress Nightwing had been under recently. He had left Bludhaven for a few weeks to visit the Manor, but he was still pushing himself in his training to become a cop. If he didn’t stop soon, Bruce decided, Dick would be confined to the Batcave until he had enough energy to fight.

After they had eaten, both boys had headed up to their rooms, Tim to do some reading and Dick to get some rest before his patrol later on. Bruce, meanwhile, made good on his promise to Harley, and went up to check on her.

"Harleen?" He asked, knocking on her door. "Harleen, can I come in?" When he received no response, he gently pushed the door open and entered the room.

Harley was sitting on her bed with her back to Bruce, her pots of makeup surrounding her. For once, she had undone her bunches, and her dyed blonde hair fell in a wave. He'd never seen her hair down before. It was a surprising sight, though not an unpleasant one.

Bruce cleared his throat to get her attention. "Harleen, I'm sorry to disturb you, I was wondering if we could talk for a minute..."

No response.

"Harleen?"

Nothing.

"Is everything okay?"

More silence. _This is ridiculous_ , Bruce thought, walking over to the bed. The jester sat completely still, her legs crossed and her face expressionless. Her makeup and face paint had been meticulously reapplied, both the lipstick and eyeshadow painted on perfectly. But there were tear tracks on her cheeks, and more poured from beneath her closed eyelids.

He stared at her for a moment, studying the pained look on her face. For the first time, it occurred to him that he might not be able to help her. The thought cut through him, before he steeled himself. The Joker had done enough damage, she didn’t need to added to the list of lives he’d taken.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and she looked around in confusion, before her eyes settled on Bruce and narrowed in suspicion. "Whatcha doin' Brucie? Yanno, it's rude just ta watch a girl like tha'."

He almost winced at her high pitched tone, and was disappointed that it was Harley speaking – he had been hoping for a chance to speak with Harleen. "Are you alright, Harleen? I knocked and you weren't responding."

Harley seemed to realise that she was crying, and wiped her cheeks. She stared at the white makeup that smeared onto her hand. "Stop calling me Harleen, it's Harley. Harley Quinn." She sniffed quietly, her eyes fixed on her fingers.

"No, it's not."

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing with anger. "The fuck do ya think ya are, Wayne? Ya don't know shit, let alone who I am! Just lemme go back to ma life with Puddin' an' Red an' fighting Batsy. I don't need this rehabilitation crap!" She tossed something onto the bed before curling herself into the fetal position with a dramatic huff, her back to him. The action was so childish that he almost wanted to laugh at her.

Instead, he carefully picked up the object she had tossed, wondering how the hell she’d managed to keep it with her. To his surprise, it was a photo. In it were the inmates of Arkham: The Riddler, the Scarecrow, Two-Face, Mad Hatter, everyone. And right in the middle, one arm wrapped around her "Puddin'" and the other one embracing Poison Ivy, was Harley, a smile filling her face with glee. It looked just like a family photo.

A very _dysfunctional_ family photo.

He wasn’t sure how she had managed to get them all together for long enough to take a picture – presumably with a combination of bribes and threats – but it clearly was very important to her. The edges were tattered and the colours had begun to fade.

"I don't need your help. I have them."

He wanted to argue with her, to point out that not one of her ‘friends’ had ever attempted to help her recover from her illnesses, choosing instead to make it worse. He wanted to tell her that he had watched the Joker hit her in front of all of them – barring Poison Ivy – and that not one had done anything but sat and watched. He wanted to make her acknowledge that they were never going to want her to get better, because her getting better meant she couldn’t be bullied by them anymore.

But he was Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne wasn’t supposed to know any of that, so he left instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, and stay safe guys!


	7. On Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another terrible chapter name.

“Master Bruce, this is ridiculous.” The man in question didn’t look up from the Batcomputer as Alfred spoke from next to him. “You haven’t even seen her today.”

“Only because she made it very clear she doesn’t want anything to do with me for now,” Bruce pointed out, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Sir, she’s a very sick woman, I’m not sure she knows _what_ she wants,” Alfred disagreed quietly. Bruce finally leant back in his chair and looked up at him, trying to ignore the knot of guilt in his chest.

“How is she?”

“Drifting between tears and homicidal threats,” he replied bluntly, though Bruce was almost certain he saw the older butler’s lips were twitching. “Masters Richard and Timothy have been with her.”

“ _Alone?_ ” Bruce asked incredulously, already standing up. “She could kill them Alfred.”

“Respectfully sir, if you thought she would kill your sons, she would not be in your house.”

He looked at the older man reproachfully. “You should have told me.”

“I will endeavour to remember that.” Alfred nodded respectfully, but his raised eyebrow told Bruce he had no intention of doing so. Sighing, he dragged himself out of his chair and towards the stairs to the main manor, more than aware of his resemblance to a small child. He ignored the butler’s badly concealed laughter from behind him.

For once, he had almost no clue of what to say to her as he trailed closer to her bedroom, and any ideas he could come up with were horribly cliché. As he drew near enough to hear voices, however, any planned conversation left his head.

The female voice inside caught him so off-guard that he barely registered Dick’s. It was light and feminine, but without a hint of Harley Quinn’s accent and grating, high pitch tone. Bruce smiled to himself without realising. It had been a long time since he had heard Dr Harleen Quinzel speak.

He knocked quickly, warmth welling in his chest as she called for him to come in. Bruce stepped into the room and couldn’t help his grin widening as he took in the view before him. Tim was asleep on Harleen’s shoulder, an abandoned coffee mug next to him. One of her arms was wrapped around him, while the other held a controller as she quickly paused the game. Dick sat cross-legged beside her, the bed more than big enough for the three of them. Judging by the empty plates, the boys had been in there for a long time. But that wasn’t what caught Bruce’s attention the most.

Unlike the day before, Harleen’s hair was out of her pigtails and pulled up into a sloppy ponytail. Instead of his white shirt, she was wearing denim shorts and a white shirt of her own, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. But the biggest change was her face. The makeup was entirely wiped away, leaving her lips pink, cheeks rosy and skin more golden than he had expected. It had been years since he had seen her without the paint – and never looking so relaxed and casual. He wasn’t entirely prepared, and simply stared for a moment.

"Bruce? Everything okay?" Harleen's voice was concerned.

"Of course," Bruce said, wiping the smile off his face quickly, "I just came up to check that you're alright, but it doesn't seem necessary now." He smiled gently as Tim curled himself closer to Harleen.

Dick laughed. "Yeah, we've been here since around 4. Tim fell asleep after an hour or so - late night I guess." Bruce sent a small smile towards his son, but kept his eyes fixed on Harleen, waiting for.... Well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was waiting for.

"I'm sorry Bruce."

But it wasn't that.

"I shouldn't have said –“ she cut herself off. “ _Harley_ shouldn’t have said the things she did last night. I know how much you're putting yourself in the line for me, and it means a lot that you would do that." She was blushing slightly, her eyes unable to meet his in her embarrassment and instead fixed on his left shoulder. Bruce smiled at her reassuringly.

"Harleen.... Everyone just wants what's best for you, that's the reason you're here. I understand you were stressed last night, you had every right to be. Just remember that everyone in this room - "

"Including the little guy drooling on your shoulder." Dick interjected helpfully, making Harleen giggle.

" - Wants you to be Harleen Quinzel for the rest of your life, not Harley Quinn." He found, to his surprise, that his words felt true even to him. Perhaps rehabilitation was not solely for Gotham City’s benefit.

There were tears in her eyes by the time he had finished speaking, and she gently kissed the head of the still-sleeping Tim. Bruce watched her curiously, a smile on his face as he saw the affection in Harleen's eyes as she gazed at his son. In the two years that he had known Tim as a son, he had never seen him sleep around anyone other than himself, Dick and Alfred. It was a surprise, but a welcome one.

"I want that too. That's why...." The young woman took a deep breath and sighed, before staring straight at Bruce. "That's why I'm on board."

The two men stared at her, hardly daring to believe what they heard. "What do you mean by 'on board', exactly?" Dick asked.

"I mean I want to recover. It's not going to be easy for anyone involved, and Harley's gonna put up one hell of a fight, but I'm done with this life. Anything you want me to do, I'll do it. I want to be Harleen Quinzel again. Completely." She was smiling as the spoke her next words. "Tell Alfred I'll need dark brown hair dye."

Bruce was absolutely powerless to stop the smile from creeping onto his face, but that wasn't a problem. She wanted to change. She truly did. _Thank God_.

Nevertheless, he had to make sure she understood. “You know that this will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, don’t you? You’re sick Harleen, and your friends –“

“They’re not my friends,” she argued sharply, her eyes glinting in annoyance. “They’re _hers,_ and he’s _her_ boyfriend, not mine They can rot in hell.” Her voice softened for a moment. “Well, not all of them. Pamela’s always been kind to me, I think she’d be happy if I got better.”

Privately, Bruce wasn’t entirely sure that he agreed with her; while Ivy definitely cared for her, he wasn’t certain that her feelings would continue should Harleen recover. But it wasn’t his place to comment, so he stayed quiet as she continued. “A week ago, if you asked me, I would’ve said you were just another asshole CEO.” Dick stifled a laugh. “And now you guys are taking me in just ‘cause you want to. I don’t know anyone else that would do that.”

"It's not just us though."

Tim had woken up. He shifted into a sitting position on the bed, smiling at Bruce when he realised his dad had joined them while he had been sleeping. "Batman, Nightwing and Robin all have faith in you too - hell, Batman was the one who actually brought you here.” Bruce resisted the temptation to send a warning look to Robin, knowing that he would never intentionally give a clue about their identities away. It would have been quite a leap, but he wasn’t sure that it would be impossible for her to figure out who they were.

Fortunately, she clearly wasn’t thinking much about it. Harleen ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, I guess I have known Batsy for a while, haven't I?" She laughed. "Ten years, actually, I met him when I first moved to Gotham, when I was 16."

“Really?” Dick asked in surprise, shooting Bruce a quick glance. “How?”

She laughed, though her cheeks had reddened. “I, uh, went for a walk in the park and he showed up. I learnt pretty quick not to act shady at night in Gotham.” Bruce resisted a smile. He remembered the day, probably better than she did. It was in his early days as Batman, and even he could admit that his paranoia had caused him to be harsher than necessary with her.

They all stayed together for a while longer, the atmosphere so pleasant that Bruce could almost pretend he and Dick were on good terms. Harleen Quinzel was just as smart and witty as he remembered her to be on the two occasions he had visited Arkham as himself. Her jokes were almost as bad as Dick’s and her comebacks better than Tim’s, and he found her to be extremely good company. From the look that Tim gave him, it was clear he wasn’t the only person who preferred Harleen over Harley.

Two hours later, Bruce found himself in his Batsuit outside Harleen’s door. He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to visit Harleen in his suit mere hours after talking to her without it. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he felt guilty for causing her so much distress.

She was awake when he opened the door as quietly as possible, laying on her bed gazing up at the ceiling. "Do you think I can change, Batsy?" To his disappointment, her voice had risen to the pitch of Harley Quinn, with no sign of the lovely woman he had met earlier.

The bluntness of her question caught Bruce off guard for a minute, before he quickly recovered his composure. "Yes I do." He wondered if he should say more, but situations like these weren’t known to be a strength of his.

The young woman gave a short laugh at that. "That’s what everyone keeps sayin’. ‘You ain’t evil Harleen, ya just need ya head screwed on a little straighter.’”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think those people ain’t neva been in love. No one gives two shits I ain’t got nothin’ to come outta Arkham to, all of youse jus’ want me gone.” She scowled for a second, another thought coming into her head. “Least I’m better than some of the ones you don’t care about catchin’,”

Batman found himself subconsciously moving towards her as she spoke, and now realised he was very close to the bed. "What do you mean?" He could have reached out and touched her, if he'd wanted.

"I could be like Selina Kyle." She scowled as she said the name, like it was an offensive term, and Bruce wondered why. As far as any of them knew – and according to Selina herself – the two women were very good friends.

“Why would that be a bad thing?”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t a fan of the way she treated Bruce Wayne – nice guy, didn’t deserve that.” He stiffened at her words; Selina’s infidelity had cut him deeply, but he hadn’t been aware that it was public knowledge. Before he could ask anything more, however, Harley yawned, a sound filled with pure exhaustion.

The Dark Knight smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest bit. "I'll let you get some sleep." He said, turning towards the door. He had almost left the room before he heard her quiet voice.

"Stay."

He turned back to her and stared, unsure what he had just heard. "Pardon?"

"I said stay. I know you're busy, but I don't want to be on my own tonight. Please." Her voice was small and vulnerable, her bright blue eyes impossibly large.

Trying - in vain - to control the churning in his stomach and hoping his cowl hid the faint blush on his cheeks, Bruce walked back over to the bed. Harley shifted so there was space for both of them, and he slipped under the covers, instantly enveloped by warmth. The woman beside him immediately curled up against him, her head and hand on his chest, and his arms - seemingly of their own accord - wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to him until he could feel her heart beating. Within seconds, her breathing evened out, and Harley fell asleep.

This had been a bad idea. Harleen Quinzel may be the smarter of the two, but Harley was deadly. Lying in bed with her was the perfect way to get himself hurt, just like Barbara had warned.

In spite of all this, however, he couldn’t bring himself to move when he huddled closer to him under her blankets and murmured in her sleep. She looked more harmless than he had ever seen a criminal before, and – for once – he ignored the voice telling him to leave the room as soon as possible. Perhaps it was guilt for upsetting her so much the day before, but he was desperate to tell her something. But only if he knew she couldn’t hear.

And it wasn't until half an hour later, when he was certain the woman in his arms was indeed asleep, that Batman leaned down to whisper into her ear, "My favourite colour is blue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts!


	8. Tour

When Harley woke up the next morning, she was completely alone. There was no trace of the Dark Knight that had kept her company through the night, only a mess of sheets and pillows surrounding the young woman.

He'd left.

For some reason, this filled Harley with both disappointment and relief. Disappointment because something obviously more important than her had caused him to leave, and relief that she didn't have to talk to him after how strangely kind he'd been last night. It was better that he hadn't stayed – it avoided any awkward conversations. She pushed down the suddenly heavy feeling in her chest.

"Dr Quinzel?" A voice called through the door, interrupting Harleen's musing. "May I come in?”

"Yeah!" She yelled back.

The door opened to reveal Alfred, holding a tray full of food. "Breakfast, Ma'am."

"Ooh thanks, Al." Harley grinned; Alfred's cooking was amazing and probably better than anything she'd ever eaten. "What is it?"

The elderly man smiled at her enthusiasm. "Bacon and eggs, with toast and coffee." He gently put the plate on the bed next to her, chuckling at her gasp of excitement at the food.

"Aww thanks. You remembered it's ma favourite."

"It's no problem Dr Quinzel, I'm merely doing my job. Also," Alfred added, remembering the message he had to pass along and ignoring Harley’s scowl at the use of her proper name, "Master Bruce has requested that you meet him in his study after you eat."

"Really?" Harleen asked, her eyes wide. "Well, okay, I'll just need to get changed as well."

"Very good Ma'am. I'll leave you to your breakfast." The butler bowed slightly, before quietly exiting the room. Harleen grinned again and dug into her food.

“Oh, Dr Quinzel,” Alfred poked his head back into the room from behind the door.

Harley looked up just as she bit into a piece of bacon, “Mmm?” Though she wanted to row with him over his use of ‘Quinzel’, she knew it would get her nowhere. It also felt incredibly rude after he’d made her breakfast.

“Will you need any assistance finding the study?”

“Uh,” She chewed the piece of bacon she had bit off and tapped her chin with the rest of the bacon piece. “Nah, I should be fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, besides it might do me some good to stretch my legs and go on a mini-adventure to find it.”

“Very well, Dr Quinzel. Enjoy your meal.”

“Thanks Al.” As Alfred closed the door and left once again, Harleen resumed digging into her food.

Needless to say, the meal was delicious, and she quickly polished it off, before looking for a nice outfit to wear. After deciding on a white tank top and blue shorts with white pumps, the young woman quickly applied her face paint and left her room in search of Bruce's study.

Harley wasn't quite sure why he was asking to see her there, since it was the first time she'd left her room since arriving at Wayne Manor. Was her time here up? Would she be sent back to Mistah J?

That one thought almost caused Harleen to freeze up in fear. For the first time in years, she had felt welcome, and couldn't bear for it to end. Bruce, Alfred, the boys... they had all been so kind to her, and, even though she'd only been at the Manor for a few days, it felt like so much longer.

What was happening? For the past four years, Harley Quinn had been completely under the Joker's thumb, doing whatever he wanted her to and spending more time in Arkham Asylum than out of it. And she had been proud, to do it too, while all the time believing that she was doing it all for her Puddin'. But now, for the first time in years, she began to question her actions.

The Joker would take all of this from her if she left now. It wasn’t fair, even to Harley – everything she’d ever done for him, without even a ‘thank you’ in return. Well, she’d show him. Even if it took fucking Bruce Wayne to do it!

"Harleen?"

Bruce's voice snapped the young woman out of her thoughts, and it was only then that she realised that an angry flush had crawled along her neck and face, likely visible even through the face paint. She tried to force her face into a neutral expression, but it was far too late.

"I-I'm fine." Harley stammered.

"No, you're not." Bruce stepped to the side and gestured for her to walk into the room he had just exited. From what Harleen could see, this was the study she was meant to go to. She stepped in and looked around; the room was plain, with only a few chairs and a desk. Bruce walked in behind her and shut the door. It was still incredibly fancy, with an old-fashioned fireplace and expensive-looking artwork on the walls. "Harleen, what's wrong?" Bruce asked as he took a seat behind the desk and Harleen sat down in the opposite facing chair.

"Nothing...." she answered too quickly and tried frantically to think of an excuse. "I... I just bumped my leg on the door in my room. Pissed me off.” It was a terrible excuse, but he played along.

"Do you need anything?" His worry was quite endearing, really.

"Nah, I'm fine," Harley said hastily, trying to find a way to reassure him. "Just hurt a bit, but I'm okay. Cross ma heart."

The man in front of her gave her another concerned look, but thankfully didn't push the matter further. "Anyway, I wanted to discuss something with you."

_Oh God, he's gonna send me away_ , Harleen thought anxiously. _I'm going to be stuck in Arkham_.

"You've been here for quite a few days now..."

_Please, please, please Bruce, don't send me back to that place._

"I should have done this sooner, in all honesty...."

_No no no no no no no no......_

"You shouldn't be confined to just your room if you're going to stay here. I'll take you on a tour of the house, if you'd like."

_Oh._

Harleen stared at Bruce, completely dumbfounded. "Huh?"

"A tour of the rest of the house. Would you like that?" He began to wonder if this was such a good idea. She wasn't saying anything, only gazing at him as though she couldn't understand a word he said. It had been Alfred's suggestion that the young woman see the whole Manor and be allowed more freedom, and Bruce had agreed; keeping her locked in one room would be no more productive than Arkham had been for her. He thought it would be a good idea to get her used to living a relatively normal life - if she were to ever leave the asylum, she would not be confined to one room.

His plan was thrown out of the window when she burst into tears.

Bruce stared frantically at the young woman in front of him as tears dropped down her face. He had never been good with, well, people in general, really, but particularly crying women. Especially if he had no idea why they were crying in the first place. That’s why, as awful as it may sound, he was thankful to have adopted boys and not girls – there were very few tears and emotional outbursts when it came to Dick and Tim, and, even then, they were usually perfectly fine after a hug.

The thought gave him an idea. Very cautiously, so he didn’t upset Harley further, the man stood up and crept closer to where she sat, tears still pouring down her cheeks. He gently knelt down so the two were face to face, and gently pulled her close to his chest, his arms wrapping around her shaking shoulders; he felt her head press against his shoulder and ignored the face paint undoubtedly smearing onto his shirt. “Come on, it’s alright. Everything’s fine, Harleen, I promise.” _Jesus, I’m bad at this._

But it seemed to do the trick, as Harleen’s sobs quickly quietened to small sniffles, and she pulled her head from his chest soon after, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “Sorry, Bruce, I…. Got a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

He smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine, honestly. Do you want to talk about it…?”

The blonde looked down, refusing to meet his eyes, her voice so quiet Bruce had to strain to hear it. “I thought you was gonna send me back to Arkham.” When he didn’t respond, Harleen risked a glance up at him; seeing his shocked expression, she tried to explain. “It’s just that I’ve been here for a few days and the bruises and cuts have healed and when Alfred said that you wanted to see me I just assumed…” Bruce held up his hand for silence.

“That place is toxic for you, Harleen, anyone with eyes can see that. It’s not helping you, and I think we can both agree that you feel more comfortable here –” he smiled slightly at the woman’s vigorous nodding “– so I see no reason as to why you should leave the Manor. You’re safe here, Harleen – that’s all that matters.”

She gave him a small – almost shy – smile, the last trace of tears gone from her face. “So how ‘bout that tour?”

The manor was beautiful, Harley had to admit – and huge too. It took almost half an hour for Bruce to show her the top two floors, which consisted mostly of guest bedrooms, as well as Harleen, Bruce, Dick and Tim’s rooms. He then showed her the biggest (and cleanest) kitchen the young woman had ever seen, as well as a large dining room that could easily fit fifty around its mahogany table. The hallways, living room, and ballroom – at the sight of which Harleen couldn’t suppress a gasp of delight – were all stunning, but the final room Bruce showed her was by far the most amazing to the young woman.

“And here we have the library.” Bruce declared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

It was one of the biggest libraries Harley had ever been in, and easily the most magnificent. More books than anyone could possibly read in a lifetime lined the many bookcases, which almost reached the high ceiling. The room was quite dark; the only light source came from the crackling flames in an ornate fireplace, the large armchair next to it illuminated by the light. Harley looked back at Bruce in awe, and he gently nodded his head, giving her permission to take a closer look.

The young woman walked around slowly, her hand gently tracing along the spines of books she passed. There were so many of them, from modern romance novels to nineteenth-century gothic fiction. _It’s been so long_ , Harley thought longingly back to the last time she had been able to read a book properly.

_It had been three months ago in Arkham Asylum, and Harley Quinn had been the only inmate in the recreation room – even the guards, knowing that she would cause no issues without her “Puddin’” around, were paying the blonde no attention. Harley wandered over to the bookcase and looked closely at the titles, before finally making a selection: Jane Eyre. She read for an hour, enjoying the unfolding love story before she was disturbed by the other inmates’ arrival._

_One by one, the supervillains stopped in their tracks to stare at the Harlequin, stunned at the sight of her reading so quietly. It was Scarecrow who broke the silence, clearing his throat loudly. “What are you reading over there Harley?” He asked._

_Harley looked up and quickly closed her book, blushing slightly as she put it down. “Eh, s’nothing really. Just got a bit bored on mah own.”_

_Two-Face snorted loudly, walking over to her and snatching the book. “Jane Eyre?” He asked, insultingly surprised. “Were you really reading this?” He looked down at her, not believing that the Joker’s girlfriend could possibly enjoy reading it._

_The blonde scowled, angry at everyone’s shocked expressions. “Yeah, I was actually. I can read, yanno!” She said indignantly._

_“Of course you can, Harls,” Ivy said soothingly “We were just… surprised, that’s all.” While Harley knew she didn’t mean any disrespect, it still hurt to think that they thought she was too stupid even to enjoy one of her favourite novels…_

Harley smiled sadly at the memory; it seemed like all she could remember of her old friends were the times they had made her feel unwelcome or inferior to them. The saddest part, however, was that she knew that those feelings were included in most of her memories involving her fellow Arkham inmates. _What a few days away from them all can do ta a gal…._

Bruce, meanwhile, leaned against the doorway, eyes fixed on Harley. It was strange, having her live in the Manor, especially since she'd been a handful, to say the least. But despite her screaming, crying, refusal to accept help at first...

He could get used to it.

It was a dangerous thought, but one that was nonetheless present in his mind. As he watched the young woman in front of him, it occurred to him that there was so much about her he hadn't learnt yet, and so much that he wanted to know. He knew that, deep down, she wanted someone – anyone – to show some kind of interest in her, wished that they would give enough of a damn to actually care about her.

_It’ll be me._

Bruce surprised himself by thinking that, but he couldn’t doubt that it was true. _She’s gone long enough without anyone being there for her, and I’ll be damned if I don’t change that._ Harleen was an amazing person underneath all of the damage the Joker had caused, and it was time for her to begin seeing that in herself.

The man was pulled from his thoughts by a loud knocking on the front door downstairs, one that seemed to echo ominously throughout the manor, quickly followed by Alfred’s hurried footsteps and the creak as the door was opened by the startled butler.

“Hello, Alfred. I was wondering if Bruce was around? I need to speak with him.” Shit. Bruce knew that voice – it was one he tried desperately to banish, but remained in his thoughts. A permanent reminder of its owner’s betrayal. He stepped closer to the hallway, barely hearing his butler’s strained reply.

“Of course, Miss Kyle, He will be down shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...


	9. An Unusual Guy

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had seen her. It must have been at least a few months – he didn’t even want to think about where she’d been during that time – but she hadn’t changed much. Her dark hair was slightly longer than it had been, brushing past her collarbones, but her smile was just as mocking, her eyes just as sharp.

"What do you want?" Bruce fought to keep his face neutral as he looked at her, trying not to let his frustration show.

"Is that all I get Bruce?" Selina's teeth gleamed as she smirked at him.

Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm serious, Selina. Why are you here?" He was uncomfortably aware of the fact that Harleen was just upstairs and prayed that she hadn't heard the unexpected arrival.

The woman stepped closer Bruce, making sure to swing her hips as she did so. "Is there any reason you want me to be here?" She pressed herself against him, far closer than he had been expecting.

The man shrugged her off immediately, pinning her arms to her sides as he pushed her away. "Selina." His voice left no room for more flirting.

"Always business with you, huh?" She asked mockingly, before she looked at him slightly wistfully. “You used to be a lot happier to see me.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you here?” He didn’t want to think of the past, especially not in the mansion, with Harley just upstairs.

“Am I not allowed to want to catch up?” Her dark eyes looked him up and down as she bit on her lip lightly. “You look good.”

“I don’t have the time for this.” Bruce deadpanned. “Tell me what you want or leave.”

He was sure he must have been imagining the disappointment flash through her eyes; it was gone after a moment, and she shrugged at him with a fake nonchalance. “I thought you might like to know something?”

“And what’s that?”

“Harley Quinn is missing.” She said breezily, though there was a slight edge to her voice. Bruce fought to keep his face devoid of any emotion, but he couldn’t hide the slight tensing of her shoulders. Of course, her sharp eyes caught the movement, and her voice was more thoughtful when she spoke again. “No one’s heard from her for about a week now – even the Joker’s noticed at this point.”

His jaw clenched ever so slightly at the mention of the Joker. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll keep an eye out.” He took a step back, expecting – or, rather, hoping – that she would follow his lead and leave the mansion, but luck was not on his side.

“Well, that’s the thing.” Selina said slowly, looking over him for a sign of any reaction. “The Joker is looking for her too, and wants all of us to. Something about her running away again – much more likely that someone’s finally gotten tired of her and offed her.” She let out a laugh that would sound fake even to someone untrained in human behaviour, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Thank you for telling me – although you didn’t need to come here.” His voice was firm, and again he thought he saw a moment of hurt dance across her face.

“I wanted to.” She replied daintily, looking around the room. “You should really think about redecorating this place.” Her nose crinkled as she looked at the old ornaments, and Bruce’s temper flared.

“Was there a reason _why_ you wanted to?” He snapped.

She didn’t seem fazed by his anger and continued staring around the living room in false fascination. “What do you think of Quinn, anyway? You were always nice to her.”

“I’m not in the mood for idle conversation Selina.” Bruce said though gritted teeth. “Leave please.”

She woman before him had many talents, but listening to him had never been one of them. Selina’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You will tell me if you see her, won’t you?” She stalked closer to him, looking for any signs he was lying. His body language must have given something away, and he cursed internally when she drew back in surprise. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Selina she’s a criminal – I can’t just hand her over to you and the Joker.” He shot back, refusing to give anything else away. “How can I put anyone away if I’m giving everyone _back_?” He made sure to keep his voice low; for all he knew, Harley could be trying to listen in on his conversation. She knew Selina’s ‘extracurricular activities’, and his guest wasn’t known to be a patient person.

Before she could reply, Alfred appeared at the door, looking severely troubled. “Master Wayne, sir, there is an emergency that requires your help upstairs.” His face gave very little away, but Bruce could tell easily what it was about.

“You need to leave.” He said roughly to Selina, who, in her surprise, nodded. The hurt in her face was as clear as day this time, but fears for what Harley could be doing erased any other concern from his mind. “Alfred, if you would please escort Miss Kyle to her car?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thanks Alfred, but I’m alright – he just wants to make sure I’m gone.” She gave the older man a sickly sweet smile before turning back to Bruce. “We’ll talk soon.”

“Okay.” He didn’t see the point in arguing, not when it would only keep her in the manor longer. She sent one last smirk his way, one that would have made him think of her for days on end a few years ago, and left. Once the door slammed shut, Bruce hurried to the window; as promised, she was getting into her car, but he waited until she was out of sight to turn back to Alfred. That had been a close call, even by his standards. “Where is she Alfred?”

**OoOoO**

Harley panicked as soon as she heard the familiar voice in the hallway. She fought to keep her face under control as Bruce apologised to her and gently excused himself from the room. Once he had left, however, fear welled in her chest, accompanied by a small amount of hurt that Bruce had left her so quickly to talk to Selina. She couldn’t focus on that very much, though, not with her breathing already growing ragged.

She sank to the floor and rested her head against the doorway, trying to keep her panicking under control. _Breathe Harleen,_ she told herself over and over again. _Just breathe._ As the ringing in her ears reduced, Catoman’s voice floated up the stairs. She only heard one thing, but it was enough.

“You _will_ tell me if you see her, won’t you?”

The realisation weighed down on her like lead. Bruce Wayne, the guy who so _generously_ wanted to help and house a _criminal,_ was going to turn her in to Catwoman? Even as her heart clenched at the thought of not seeing Mistah J, she didn’t trust Cats as far as she could throw her (which wasn’t very far, based on past experiences.)

She knew this had been a mistake. Mistah J was right – Bruce Wayne was nothing but a pretentious asshole that would sell her out to the highest bidder. Harley snorted a laugh – _and she thought she could trust him._

At that thought, her chest constricted so quickly she could barely breathe. She _had_ trusted him – at least as much as she could have after a few days, and he’d sold her out to Cats! It was unexpected, but Puddin’ always said people were all the same.

Her fist flew out of nowhere, and one of Bruce’s fancy glass globes crashed to the floor. She watched it with satisfaction, enjoying the expensive trinket smashing to pieces. Even though her hand ached, it felt good. So she did it again. And again. By the end of it, she was surrounded by shards of glass. She barely noticed her hand was dripping blood on to the floor. This was _fun._

Just then, Alfred appeared at the door, no doubt concerned by the all the noise she was no doubt making. His eyes widened as he focused on first the shattered glass on the floor, and then Harley’s bloody hand. “Ma’am, is everything al –“

“Get out!” She screamed, barely recognising the choked scream she released. Alfred nodded slowly and backed out of the room, and she grinned brightly at him as his eyes remained locked on hers until he disappeared from the room. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered why her cheeks were wet – she was happy, wasn’t she? Breaking things made her happy.

She heard the door close – it seemed Selina wouldn’t be coming for her today. Footsteps echoed on the stairs, louder than Alfred’s. _Shit._ Bruce was not going to be happy – which she knew was an understatement. She needed to leave.

Her eyes fixed on a window near her, the only way out aside from the door. She yanked at the window and almost screamed in frustration. It wouldn’t open. She stared at the complicated lock, too panicked to even curse Batman for filling the house with his ridiculous gadgets. She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. It was empty, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she braced herself. If the lock wouldn’t open, she’d have to find another way. Her already damaged hand formed a first as she swung for the glass panel.

“Harleen!” Bruce’s arm shot out and grabbed her wrist before her hand could connect with the window. He hadn’t made a sound as he came into the room and moved far quicker than Harley had expected. She let out a scream as she shoved him away, but – to her dazed shock – he took hold of her other hand and held them in front of her. He pressed her tightly against the wall as she thrashed against him in a frenzy, his eyes wide with concern and surprise. He didn’t let go when she kicked at him – in face, he barely seemed to notice, though the pressure on her wrists increased.

After a few moments, her movements calmed until she was shaking in his grip, staring up at him with red-rimmed, hate-filled eyes. He met her gaze steadily with his own clear one, his irises the palest blue she’d ever seen. Up close, they looked more familiar than they had before, as was the quietly intense way that he held her.

“You sold me out.” Her voice was quiet, but she knew that he heard her, from the way his eyebrows almost hit his hairline.

“Harleen, I promise I never did,” he said, his voice only slightly louder than hers. “I haven’t told a soul that you’re here.”

“You told me I could trust you.” She wasn’t sure why it hurt so badly, the idea that he betrayed her. She’d not expected any different, but something in his calm eyes had made her hope. _That’s the problem with hope,_ she reflected sadly, _it kills ya in the end._

He let go off her wrists, trusting that she wouldn’t attack him once her shaking had mostly calmed. “You can,” he said gently, his hands on her shoulders instead. “But you can’t leave Harleen. It’s not safe.”

She wasn’t sure what she thought. The whole ordeal was beginning to cause a migraine to form, and she couldn’t face the many questions that Selina Kyle’s sudden appearance had raised. Instead of telling Bruce this, she nodded in agreement, barely paying attention to his words.

He smiled at her again, the sight putting her more at ease than she was comfortable with. He took her damaged hand in one of his and looked at it for a moment. “Looks sore. Come to the kitchen – Alfred will clear it up for you.” He took a step back from her, his eyes watching her closely for any signs of escape. She dropped her head instead and nodded again. Once he was sure she wouldn’t try to bolt again – _not that it went well the last time,_ she thought ruefully – he walked to the doorway and stopped again.

Harley’s gaze remained downward as she followed him, her hand catching her eye. She wiped away some of the blood, embarrassment beginning to settle into her stomach. To her surprise, red marks had begun to form on her wrist, quickly beginning to bruise. She held her uninjured one up, studying the skin as she felt Bruce’s concerned gaze on her. Her eyebrows raised as she stared at her quickly purpling skin. She glanced at Bruce again, and his eyes met her. “Harleen?”

“Yeah, I’m comin’.” She didn’t bother to correct his name as she followed him out of the room, trailing blood on the carpet. The muscles in his back shifted as he walked ahead and her eyes narrowed, rubbing her bruised skin absentmindedly. Perhaps there was more to Bruce Wayne than she had first believed.


	10. Find Her

When Tim returned, Bruce was in the same place he had been when he left. Not that it was particularly surprising; Bruce was more obsessive than the Riddler at points. What was surprising was the file that Bruce was studying, his forehead creased in concentration as he stared at CCTV footage and news articles. Tim sighed. He had hoped Bruce would let go of his theory of who Gotham’s newest vigilante was, but it didn’t seem like that was the case.

He didn’t look up as Tim approached him, both staring up at the screen as Robin pulled off his gloves. “What do we know about him so far?” Behind him, Dick’s motorbike sped into the Batcave before coming to a halt as Nightwing stepped off it.

“Killed seven, could be more,” Bruce murmured. “Doesn’t seem to want to commit many other crimes.”

“Who are you looking at?” Dick asked, coming over to them.

“Red Hood.” Tim replied. “New guy, you were away when he popped up,” he explained quickly as Dick looked at him in confusion.

“Ah.” He nodded. “Costumed bad guy or normal bad guy?”

“Neither.” Bruce didn’t look away from the monitor as he spoke. “The only people he’s killing are criminals.”

Dick whistled. “Well, throws a slight spanner in the works.” Bruce nodded. “Got any ideas about who it is?” Bruce and Tim exchanged a fleeting look, before both shook their heads.

If Dick noticed the exchange, he didn’t comment on it. “My back kills,” he complained. “I forgot how much work Dent’s men are.” He pulled off his suit and quickly changed into his normal clothes. “Why weren’t you out there tonight?”

Bruce’s jaw clenched slightly. “You two had it handled.” Dick stared at him in surprise, but Tim snorted.

“Alfred’s making him take every other Friday off.”

“Good,” Dick agreed. “You work too much.”

“I –“ Bruce paused abruptly, his forehead creasing as he listened closely.

“Bruce, you okay?” Tim asked, before his eyes widened. “Is that screaming?”

Without replying, his father stood quickly and hurried to the lift to the manor, disappearing from sight. Dick rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I hope she’s okay.”

“I mean it’s,” Tim leaned over to check the digital watch, “three thirty-six. She’s probably having a nightmare.” He paused awkwardly for a moment. “Did you hear what happened the other day?”

“The library?” Tim nodded. “Yeah, Alfred told me. I hope she gets better, but…” the older boy shrugged sadly. In their line of work, both knew the chances of someone turning their life around was slim.

**OoOoO**

“Harleen? Harleen!” Warm hands shook her awake and she found herself looking into the concerned face of Bruce Wayne. His face was blurry through her tears, but she could see his startlingly blue eyes staring back at her in the lamplight. He was bent down to reach her, his hands holding her arms steady as her thrashing slowly calmed. “Are you alright?”

She pushed his hands off as soon as the shaking stopped. “Get the fuck off me, Wayne,” she snarled. “’S’nothing.” His hands dropped to his side immediately, though he stayed crouched down to look at her eye to eye.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” She said quietly. “When can I go home?”

She heard him Bruce sigh quietly as he stood up, and for a moment she thought he might leave without answering her. The idea filled her with a panic she wasn’t expecting, followed by a pang of guilt. She loved the Joker, she was _not_ about to start wanting Bruce freakin’ Wayne around her all the time.

Instead of leaving the room, however, he simply sat on the bed, though Harley noticed he deliberately sat where he wouldn’t be touching any part of her, as per her request. It was quite sweet when she thought about it. “Harleen –“

“Ma name’s Harley,” she interrupted with a scowl.

“No, your name is Harleen Quinzel.” Bruce replied patiently.

“I don’t like bein’ called tha’, give it a fuckin’ rest.” She glared at him, the pain in her head worsening after her outburst. He looked at her for a moment, clear blue eyes unwavering, and she had to look away after a moment, though she knew he continued to study her face. It was a strange feeling, being stared at without her makeup on.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, and she looked back at him in surprise. “If ‘Harleen’ makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay. I’ll let Alfred and the boys know.”

She couldn’t talk for a moment, then blurted out, “Why ya so nice ta me?”

Bruce just smiled. “Because, with the right support, you can get better.”

“Do ya really think tha’, or ya jus’ tellin’ me wha’ I wanta hear?” She asked bluntly.

He shrugged with an embarrassed smile. “Perhaps a little of both.” He wasn’t entirely comfortable with all of this smiling, but it seemed to put her at ease more than most things.

Harley was silent for a moment. “When _Harleen’s_ –“ she scowled as she spoke the name “ – in ma head, I get really bad migraines. Sometimes I get nightmares too.” She gestured to the bed, her cheeks tinged red.

Bruce considered his next words carefully. “Has she been… _present_ more often than usual?”

She sighed. “Yeah, she’s one helluva bummer.” She pouted slightly, and he wasn’t sure whether the sight was annoying or slightly endearing. _Maybe a mix of the two._ Her huge eyes stared up at him, making it far more difficult to think than it should have.

“Do you ever think you might want to be like her again?” The question was beyond careless, and he cursed himself for getting distracted.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem bothered by his questions. “Fuck that,” she said plainly. “ _Dr Harleen Quinzel_ was boring, with a boring life and boring friends.”

Bruce realised they had somehow shifted closer to one another and slowly pulled back, trying not to make his attempts too obvious. “Who would you want to be then, if you could choose?”

“No one, I got my Puddin’ this way.” Her answer was instinctive, and as he continued to look expectantly at her she thought more about her answer. “Wouldn’t mind bein’ someone else completely. Just disappear and get a new name, yanno?” Her eyes looked slightly damp as she looked away from him, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Maybe you can one day,” he offered. She didn’t respond for a long time and he began to wonder if he’d spoken out of turn. After a few minutes, he stood to leave the room and give her some privacy, but her voice stopped him from moving very far.

“Hey, I know it’s late an’ all,” she mumbled, looking down at the sheet she was wrapped in, “but do ya mind staying for a bit? I could use the company.” It took her a moment to look back up at him with those ridiculously blue eyes, as he considered his answer.

It was three thirty in the morning. He had to go into the office in less than six hours and wouldn’t sleep for another thirty-six at least. He should have told her no, that he didn’t to get some rest and that she should too. He wanted to. Sleep sounded much better than staying up with a woman who, while pleasant company on a good day, could also attack him at any moment. His mind was shouting at him to deny her request.

But his mouth had other ideas. Her smile lit up the entire room as he agreed, and he couldn’t quite find it in himself to regret the decision.

**OoOoO**

“Harley? Harley!” The men sitting around the table looked uneasily at one another as the Joker’s voice rang out from the other room. “Where are you, you useless broad?”

When he came into the room, they silently placed their cards on the table and tried to gauge his mood. It wasn’t good news. His suit was slightly crinkled and his bow tie askew as he wandered into the room. He stared around in frustration for a moment, before his eyes found what he was looking for. He walked over to where a knife sat on a countertop, swaying slightly, and sank the knife into his palm almost as soon as his hand closed around the hilt. The men averted their eyes awkwardly as he let out a satisfied sigh as the knife pierced his flesh. For a moment, as he turned to go back into his room, they breathed a sigh or relief, thinking he hadn’t seen them. Their hope was dashed a moment later, as the Joker turned back suddenly, as if surprised to see them there. Then he smiled.

He stalked closer to them, knife in hand, and all five of them stayed as still as possible. He sat down next to one of them, and the goon struggled to contain his shiver. “Have any of you gentlemen seen Harley?” The men exchanged looks, and the Joker threw back his head and sighed, twirling the five between his fingers. “I’m sure you all know her. Blonde, high-pitched voice, dresses like a _harlequin?_ Not ringing a bell?” He stared at all with wide-eyed innocence, though his hand tightened ever so slightly on the handle of his knife.

“Boss, you, uh, kicked her out,” one of them stammered uncomfortably. “Don’t you remember?”

“Did I?” The Joker stared at him with a shocked smile, and five audible gulps were heard around the table. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“I don’t know, Boss, you just kicked her out when you two busted outta Arkham.” They pressed themselves slightly closer to the chairs as the madman stood quickly, his confused frown a stark contrast with his scarred grin. He moved slightly away from them and paced backwards and forwards.

One of them – either the bravest or the least intelligent – stood slowly. The others followed his lead as he slowly approached the Joker, who was muttering under his breath as he continued to pace. When the man was about four feet away, the Joker stopped abruptly ans stared straight at him. To their astonishment, his eyes filled with tears. “I miss Harley,” he mumbled as he stretched his arms out for a hug. The goon closest to him froze and one of the others had to nudge him forward. Glancing back towards them uncertainly, he moved forward even slower than before, his arms slowly reaching for the Joker. The clown smiled tearfully at the gesture and moved closer, and the man let out a shaky laugh of relief.

Without warning, the Joker lunged. The knife was in the air for a split second before it made contact with the soft skin of the goon. The other four watched in horror as the clown sliced through the man’s neck completely, and three of them looked away quickly as the head fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

The fourth, on the other hand, stared with wide eyes as he watched the head roll and the body slump to the floor at the Joker’s feet. The clown smiled calmly as he looked down at his work, then stepped towards the men. “I want my Harlequin back.” He said slowly, his gaze fixed on the petrified man before him. Though shorter than anyone in front of him, they seemed to diminish before him until they were ants at his feet. They watched him with a mix of fear and fascination. “Find her.”

They nodded frantically before leaving the room quickly, their card game abandoned as they grabbed their guns and went on their way. He watched them leave, the knife twirling around his fingers again, then sat on the floor. The head gazed up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the Joker crooned, picking the head up gently. He stroked his hair as he spoke soothingly. “We’ll get her back. She’s a swell gal, you’d like her.”

“My arm hurts.”

“Hm.” At that moment, he felt a twinge in his own left arm. “What a coincidence.” He smiled slightly as he dragged the knife against his skin, hearing the blood drip onto the floor. “That’s better.” He sighed happily as he resumed stroking the head. “Don’t worry, Harley girl, Daddy will come and find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of my attempt at the Joker, good or complete crap? Please leave a review and let me know, I’d love to hear your opinions. Until then!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far!


End file.
